


Of Wars and Invasions

by CaptainCoughdrop



Series: Disasters [7]
Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Denmark-centric, F/M, M/M, More characters but they're only really mentioned, Most of them don't speak, Multi-chapter!, Several OCs but they're just there for historical accuracy, Why do my works always seem so much longer on word, excessive use of google translate
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-22
Updated: 2018-01-22
Packaged: 2019-03-08 03:49:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 4,415
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13449915
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CaptainCoughdrop/pseuds/CaptainCoughdrop
Summary: Mathias enjoys his freedom from the Nazis for all of two weeks before he’s invaded again.Part 8 of the Disasters verse.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> The focus shifts to Mathias! And the Soviet invasions! Finally!
> 
> So, yeah. I actually think this one’s going to be… Dare I say it… A multi-chapter work?! Craziness. This will- hopefully- be about Mathias’ induction to the USSR countries, and just basically him settling in.
> 
> And… That seems to be it, actually. No long AN today!

(1)

_19th May 1945_

Mathias enjoys his freedom from the Nazis for all of two weeks before he’s invaded again.

His people had been sort of concerned, when the USSR had insisted on taking control of Schleswig-Holstein region of Germany, directly below them, but no one had paid too much attention- war was over, right? Everyone was too busy celebrating the end of the war in Europe, and the end of the occupation. Mathias himself had spent his time celebrating with his people.

He is sympathetic to Ludwig and Gilbert, of course he is- they are his family and they always will be. But for those two perfect, beautiful weeks he puts aside his life as a nation. He refuses to be Denmark, for just a fortnight, and is just Mathias Køhler. He drinks, he dances, he laughs with his people- his wonderful, brave, incredible people- and refuses to even look at the news. He even puts off speaking to his family, because that’s an argument waiting to happen, and he has all the time in the world, right?

The Soviet invasion of Denmark comes as a complete and utter shock.

Mathias is woken in the middle of the night by the feeling of foreigners marching into his country. At first, he assumes he’s just remembering the feeling from the war, from when the Nazis occupied, but no matter how long he sits there, or pinches himself, or reminds himself that the war is over now, the feeling doesn’t go away.

_No_ , he thinks as he vaults out of bed and pulls on some clothes. _No, this can’t be happening again_.

Vilhelm Buhl is waiting for him when he arrives at Christiansborg Slot, his face grave. Mathias’ heart thumps painfully in his chest. He can feel the foreign troops getting closer to Copenhagen. He has no defence against these attackers, and it feels awful.

‘Who?’ He asks, not bothering with pleasantries. Buhl winces.

‘The Soviets,’ he answers grimly. ‘They marched up from Schleswig-Holstein. I’m sorry, Mathias- there’s not much we can do.’

Mathias knows that all too well. His land, flat as it is, is perfect for rolling tanks over, and offers no natural defences. His military is all but non-existent nowadays, and his people are entirely unprepared for an attack. In any case, Mathias has seen how the Soviets fought- Gilbert had shown him some documents and photos, and told him stories of the Eastern Front. They were merciless. His people wouldn’t stand a chance.

‘We have to surrender,’ he says, defeated. ‘We have to keep the peace. We can’t hold out against an attack.’

‘I know,’ sighs Buhl. ‘We already have. I’m- I’m sorry, Mathias.’

‘That’s ok,’ Mathias sighs. ‘It’s not your fault. It’s that damn Stalin- he’s a maniac.’ He tries to think positive- that's what he's good at, right? ‘At least I can stay here, this time.’

Buhl can’t seem to look him in the eye. Mathias feels a chill of foreboding creep up his spine. _No_ , he thinks desperately. _Please, God, let me stay with my people. Please don’t make me leave again_.

Unfortunately, it appears as though He isn’t listening. Mathias presses his lips together in a thin line, before forcing another smile. ‘So… I’m off to live with Braginsky, then?’

‘Tomorrow.’ Buhl rubs his face, looking exhausted. ‘They insisted. You’re allowed to take a bag of things, that’s it.’

Mathias closes his eyes for a brief second, before opening them again. No. He can’t give up hope. He’s survived one occupation- he’ll survive this one too. He also squashes the sudden flare of anger at Ivan, because it’s not like he has any control over what his country does. If Ivan’s nice to him, he’ll be nice to Ivan.

_This is why they call you a soft touch_ , whispers a traitorous voice at the back of his head, but he ignores it. Someone in Northern Europe has to be the friendly one, and it may as well be him. Better they whisper about him than about his family and friends, after all. 

‘I… I’d better go pack, then.’ Mathias forces another smile. Then he hesitates. ‘King Christian-’

‘Is refusing to evacuate. However, Queen Alexandrine and Princes Frederick and Knud are being evacuated to Norway.’

‘Good.’ Mathias stands. ‘I’d better get going, then.’ He pauses. ‘If I don’t see you before I leave-’ Buhl smiles, and shakes his hand. ‘I’ll pass your greetings along to King Christian.’

‘Thanks.’

Despite his words, Mathias finds walking out of Rigsborgen incredibly difficult, which is ridiculous. He’ll be back- this won’t last long. From what he hears, the USSR can barely feed their own, let alone manage more dependent countries. He hops on his bike, and rides slowly back to where he’s been staying.

His proper house, the one he shared with his family so long ago, is still empty. He’d put all his stuff into storage when the Nazis invaded, and he hasn’t unpacked yet. Instead he’s been staying in a small flat in Copenhagen. To be honest, he’d probably find it harder to pack more than one bag. Still, when he arrives in his flat, he sinks down to the floor, and puts his head in his hands as he feels the Soviets enter Copenhagen.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ‘Hey, Ivan,’ he greets cheerfully in English, since he doesn’t speak Russian. 'Fancy meeting you here.'

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a quick warning: Ivan’s a dick in this, but in my opinion, he (like Ludwig and Kiku, etcetera), has the best of intentions but is really not doing it the right way. So he’s not really a bad guy… although he kind of is in this instalment.

(2)

_19th May 1945_

Ivan arrives at his door bright and early the next morning, where Mathias is waiting for him. The younger country looks a mess- thin, scarred, and although there’s a smile on his face, his eyes are screaming. Mathias feels a surge of pity.

‘Hey, Ivan,’ he greets cheerfully in English, since he doesn’t speak Russian, and he doubts that German is the way to go at the moment. Plus, no offense to Gilbert and Ludwig, but he’s kind of sick of speaking their language. ‘Fancy meeting you here.’

Ivan stares at him, his creepy smile not relenting. Mathias feels his heart sink, but holds out his hand to shake regardless, smiling good naturedly. Ivan stares at his hand for a few seconds, before grasping it tightly. Like, _tightly_.

‘Quite a grip you got there,’ laughs Mathias, trying to ignore the fact that all the bones in his hands have been crushed. ‘How’ve you been? Recovering after the war okay?’

He would prefer not to be in conflict with Ivan if he can avoid it. If he’s crazy, then of course he’ll stand up for himself, but he’d rather everyone just got along for however long this lasts. Ivan’s smile spreads into a grin.

‘As well as can be considered, considering my people held out a little longer than two hours,’ said Ivan sweetly.

Mathias blinks at him, a tide of anger rising within him. It always irritates him, when people bring that up. But what they fail to understand is that Denmark is small, both in population and landmass. Its army was outdated even before the Nazis attacked. If they’d realistically thought they could hold out, then Mathias’ people would have fought. But they couldn’t, and, as horrible as it was to say, a country’s first priority will always be its own people.

‘Well, you know politics,’ he says instead, motioning for Ivan to lead the way.

‘Da, I do,’ agrees Ivan, ‘And I know a coward when I see one.’

 

* * *

 

By the time they reach Ivan’s home in Yakutia, several days later, Mathias has given up trying to be nice to Ivan. The Russian clearly just wants to pick fights, and no matter what people say nowadays, Mathias isn’t some dog who rolls over at any command.

Ivan’s house is, perhaps predictably, really creepy- almost cartoonishly so. It’s deep in a forest, a few miles from a tiny nearby village, and about ten miles from the town of Yakutsk, on the opposite side of the Lena River. It’s May, summer-time, but it’s still only five Celsius, and it doesn’t fill Mathias with much glee. The towns don’t either, when they drive through them in Ivan’s slightly unnecessary seeming ZIS-5 truck. They… aren’t the prettiest places Mathias has ever seen.

To be fair, the countryside isn’t bad- rolling hills with slightly patchy forest as far as the eye could see, sometimes interspersed with large blue lakes. Of course, Mathias’ view is slightly disturbed by the fact that the road is hardly a road- just a rutted dirt track. Ivan seems confident enough, but Mathias can’t help but pray that they don’t break down, because it would be a pig to push the truck on this surface.

Anyway, Ivan’s house. Mathias’ first thought when he sees it is that it’s a repurposed insane asylum. It was a large, two story, wooden house, surrounded by the trees. By the time they arrive, it’s early evening, and the lights lit up several rooms- but it still doesn’t look welcoming.

He follows Ivan in cold silence, and enters the house. It’s quiet, but he can hear voices, and a moment later, Ivan sings: ‘ _Ya doma, druz’ya_!’

There’s a collection of gasps and hurried conversation, and a moment later people appear.

Gilbert looks a mess, Mathias thinks, and it makes his heart tug. There’s gauze over several cuts, and he has a black eye. His shoulders are slumped, his head is bowed, and his expression is utterly defeated- but he freezes when he catches sight of Mathias. Mathias raises a hand in a slight wave.

His German cousin continued to stare for another seconds, before in two strides he has his arms wrapped around Mathias. Returning the hug, Mathias can feel Gilbert trembling in a way he never should- he can feel way too many ribs, too, underneath his thin shirt.

‘ _What are you doing_?’ Whispers Gilbert in German. ‘ _Why are you here, Mathias? What the hell happened? You shouldn’t be here. You can’t be here. How_ -’

Mathias opens his mouth to respond, but before he can, large, bony hands are separating them. Ivan looks coldly furious, and Mathias feels the flicker of irritation he’s been ignoring for the last few days flare up.

‘ _Ya skazal, chto ty ne mozhesh govorit’ po-nemetski, Gilbert_!’ He hisses, shoving Mathias back and grabbing Gilbert’s neck and lifting him. Mathias snarls, finally giving in to the anger that’s been building since the Russians marched into Copenhagen.

‘ _Se det_!’ He snaps, shoving Ivan back, making him lose his grip on Gilbert. A moment later, his head snaps round, blood spurting from his nose as Ivan casually backhands him. He staggers, but this is hardly the first time he’s ever been hit, and he’s about to punch back (although, damn, for such a skinny guy Ivan’s crazy strong), before Gilbert stops him.

All in all, Mathias’ first five minutes in Ivan’s house is not particularly successful.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ya doma, druz’ya: I’m home, my friends; Russian
> 
> Ya skazal, chto vy ne mozhete govorit’ po-nemetski: I said you couldn’t speak German; Russian
> 
> Se det: watch it; Danish
> 
> Also, Ivan’s ‘skinny’ due to his people’s suffering, but strong because his country is a super power.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ‘You have to speak Russian in the house.’
> 
> ‘Yeah, the problem is, I’m not just being a dick. I actually don’t speak Russian.’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Names:
> 
> Feliks Łukasiewicz: Poland
> 
> Toris Laurinaitis: Lithuania
> 
> Yekaterina Shevchenko: Ukraine
> 
> Natalya Arlovskaya: Belarus
> 
> Edouard von Bock: Estonia
> 
> Raivis Galante: Latvia
> 
> Vasilica Lupei: Romania
> 
> Nayden Anev: Bulgaria
> 
> Anastazie Novak: Czech Republic (at this point is Czechoslovakia with Martin)
> 
> Martin Tóth: Slovakia (at this point is Czechoslovakia with Anastazie)
> 
> Daniel Popovici: Moldova
> 
> Gjokë Shkreli: Albania
> 
> Magdalena Babic: Yugoslavia (later Serbia, because they share a capital city)
> 
> In all seriousness, you don't really need to worry about these guys too much- I'm just mentioning them so you don't wonder who all these people are that I'm mentioning.

(3)

Dinner is tense, and not just because of the nice new bruise across Mathias’ face and the one circling Gilbert’s throat. There’s plenty of familiar faces, at least- Feliks Łukasiewicz, looking beaten and broken and staring dully at the table; Toris Laurinaitis, who’s beside him and offers a small, sad smile; Yekaterina Shevchenko, who sits between Mathias and Ivan and is the one keeping the conversation flowing; Natalya Arlovskaya, who sits on Ivan’s other side and gives Gilbert frosty glares and completely ignores Mathias; Edouard von Bock, who meets his eyes for a split second and offers a short nod; Raivis Galante, who opens his mouth to say something, but is quickly shushed by the other Baltics; Erzsébet Herdervary, who gives him a strained but determined nod and sits beside Gilbert. There are others, too: two men, one strawberry-blonde and one black haired, who’re sitting together, conversing in quiet Russian with a small child leant against the black-haired one; an icy blonde woman and a slightly darker blond man are leaning against each other (seeing it makes Mathias think painfully of Lukas, so he quickly moves on); a tan man and slightly paler woman, who both give him short nods but otherwise focus on their dinner; and some angry looking Asian lady who he vaguely recognised but can’t put a name to.

‘ _Ty peredash’ mne sol’, Daniya_?’ Asks Ivan sweetly from his place at the head of the table. Mathias glances up, because one of the few Russian words he understands is his country’s name, Daniya. Of course, he understands nothing else.

‘You know damn well I can’t understand you,’ he answers in Finnish, since he’s pretty sure Ivan doesn’t understand Danish. From the other side of the table, Edouard blanches and makes tiny motions with his hands like, ‘ _abort, abort_!’ Ivan’s eyes narrow, his smile melting off his face.

‘ _Vam sledovalo by sledit’ za yazykom_.’ Mathias opens his mouth to tell Ivan that no matter how many times he tries it, it’s going to take a bit longer than an afternoon for him to get Russian down, but Yekaterina kicking him sharply under the table shuts him up.

‘ _Brat_ ,’ she says softly, touching Ivan’s arm. ‘ _Ne luchshe li prosto ob”yasnit’ yemu pravila_?’

Ivan stares at Mathias for a moment longer- Mathias holds his gaze as insolently as he can- before he waves Yekaterina to go ahead and turns to talk to nervous looking Toris. Yekaterina looks round at Mathias, and he can see how exhausted she is. He and Yekaterina have never been close, but they’ve always known each other, and he likes her.

‘You have to speak Russian in the house,’ she says softly to him in German.

‘Yeah, the problem is, I’m not just being a dick,’ answers Mathias, ‘I _actually_ don’t speak Russian.’

‘You’re just going to have to pick it up,’ answered Yekaterina sympathetically, putting a calloused hand on his arm. ‘I’m sorry, Mathias. We’ll try and help as best we can, but it’s best to follow the rules.’

_Please_ , her eyes say. _Don’t aggravate him_. Mathias sighs.

‘Alright. Thanks, Ukraine.’

‘Yekaterina,’ she corrects, smiling sadly. ‘We’re all friends here.’

 

* * *

  

‘ _Zdravstvuyte_!’

Mathias looks up from where he’s trying to communicate in mimes and telepathy to Gilbert (it isn’t working). They’re in the living room now, and everyone is sat around in a stiff sort of silence. Ivan sits on an armchair like a throne, and four others have taken a thread-bare old sofa, but everyone else has just seated themselves on the floor. The one talking to him is the little kid. He’s small, with big brown eyes and soft brown hair. He looks a lot like the strawberry blond guy- brothers, Mathias figures. Either way, he likes kids, so he smiles. ‘Zdrav-stoit-che.’

The little kid snorts with laughter, and he says something else in Russian. Mathias gives an exaggerated shrug and shakes his head with an apologetic smile, like ‘I don’t know what you’re saying’, and the kid giggles.

‘Daniel Popovic,’ he says cheerfully, pointing to himself. ‘Moldova.’

That much Mathias can work out.

‘Mathias Køhler,’ he answers. ‘Danmark.’

Daniel grins. ‘Daniel- Danmark! _My dolzhny byt’ druz’yami_!’

Mathias just gives him another smile, hoping that will suffice. Daniel smiles and points to Gilbert, who’s watching with a small smile on his face. ‘ _Eto moy drug Gilbert. Ty yego znayesh’_?’

‘ _Da, my znayem drug druga, malysh_ ,’ says Gilbert fondly. ‘ _Ya i Mathias vozvrashchayutsya_.’ Then he pauses and smiles at Mathias. ‘ _Pochemu by vam ne poznakomit’ yego so vsemi_?’

Whatever he says makes Daniel beam, and he bounces away like a rubber ball, waving at Mathias to watch him.

‘Feliks Łukasiewicz. _Pol’sha_.’ He explains, pointing to where Feliks is curled up against Toris’ side. ‘Toris Laurinaitis. _Litva_.’

Mathias smiles at the pair. Toris returns it, and although Feliks doesn’t look up, he gives a little wave. Daniel moves on.

‘Vasilica Lupei. _Rumyniya, i_ Nayden Anev, _Bolgariya_.’ He smiles fondly at them. ‘ _Otets i Papa_.’

Icy blond lady is Anastazie Novak, and blonde guy is Martin Tóth, and together they are _Chekhoslovakiya_. Yekaterina and Natalya are _Ukraina i Belarus’_ , and Edouard and Raivis are _Estoniya i Latviya_. Tan guy is Gjokë Shkreli, and he is _Albaniya_. His friend, Magdalena Babic, is _Yugoslaviya_. So far, easy to follow.

When it comes to Erzsébet, she is _Vengriya_ , and she gives a mocking salute as he doffs an imaginary cap.

Finally, angry Asian lady, who is sat against the wall glaring at nothing in particular, is Khulan Tsagaanbaatar, _Mongoliya_ , and that’s where Mathias has seen her before- he knew she was familiar.

Daniel gives him one last blinding smile, before turning to the room, pointing at him, and saying, ‘ _Eto Mathias Køhler, on Daniya_.’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ty peredash’ mne sol’, Daniya?: Would you pass me the salt, Denmark?
> 
> Vam sledovalo by sledit’ za yazykom: You would do well to watch your tongue.
> 
> Brat, ne luchshe li prosto ob”yasnit’ yemu pravila: Brother, wouldn't it be best just to explain the rules to him?
> 
> My dolzhny byt’ druz’yami: We should be friends!
> 
> Eto moy drug Gilbert. Ty yego znayesh’?: This is my friend Gilbert. You know him?
> 
> Da, my znayem drug druga, malysh. Ya i Mathias vozvrashchayutsya.: Yeah, we know each other, kid. Me and Mathias go way back.
> 
> Pochemu by vam ne poznakomit’ yego so vsemi?: Why don’t you introduce him to everyone?
> 
> Otets i Papa: Father and Dad.
> 
> Eto Mathias Køhler, on Daniya: This is Mathias Køhler, he’s Denmark.
> 
> Just to say, I’m really sorry about all the names and Russian translations- I wanted to get across just how lost and confused Mathias is, even if he’s trying to hide it. After this it won’t happen anymore.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A year later, and Mathias has more-or-less completely adapted to life at Ivan’s house.

(4)

_21st May 1946_

A year later, and Mathias has more-or-less completely adapted to life at Ivan’s house.

He doesn’t _like_ it, of course. But it’s okay because he knows people, and even better now that he can talk to the other nations. His Russian isn’t perfect, but he’s pretty fluent, and it’s a big relief to be able to talk to people without hand-waving and confusion.

Still, he misses his home so desperately that it’s like a constant ache.

At least he’s not alone. Everyone here- except for Ivan, of course- feels like that. Ivan’s house in Yakutia is far away from all of their homes, and it leaves a hollow feeling in Mathias’ stomach. The only comfort is when Ivan’s out, and they all start chattering in their own languages- a cacophony of absolute nonsense, but so cathartic all the same.

On the wall in the entrance hall, there’s a little set of pegs nailed into the wall, each with a little wooden rectangle with each of their flags painted on them. Every time they leave the house they’re supposed to flip theirs over so the blank back shows, so that Ivan knows who’s in and who’s out. At first, Mathias was forever forgetting, and Ivan was forever punishing him for it, but nowadays it’s second nature.

So is heading to the abandoned look out, really just a dilapidated shed that’s missing its roof that sits high on stilts and looks out over the trees. It’s really called Crow’s Lookout, but everyone just calls it Crow. At any given time during the day it’s likely you’ll find at least one of the adults sat up there, feet dangling down, smoking or talking or sometimes just sitting and admiring the view. Some enterprising genius had the idea of putting a large metal bucket up there, which they light small fires in during the winter to keep them at least somewhat warm, usually burning the wood from the shed-structure, since it’s about as useful as a chocolate teapot.

Every day they all do chores and clean the house and tend to the vegetable garden (in the summer, anyway). Sometimes, when he’s in the mood, Ivan will lead them all on a ‘good, healthy walk’ through the forest, two abreast, all singing Russian folk songs at the top of their lungs (or else). Mathias is quite sure that the locals think they’re all insane, but he doesn’t mind it too much.

Of course, not every day is this peaceful. Most aren’t. Ivan has a vicious, cruel temper, and his instability just seems to be getting worse. Mathias feels sorry for him, because he’s hardly the first country to spiral into madness, but mostly because he knows that- sooner or later- Ivan’s going to snap out of it, and what’s going to be left for him when he does?

The basement has three rooms- one for the storage of food (the permafrost keeps it really cold down there year-round, but in the winter, it’s a literal icebox), one room where Japan stays, and the KM, which is the rather glib shorthand for _komnata nakazaniya_ , or ‘punishment room’. The punishment room is small and dark and cramped, with chains dangling from the ceiling and a table piled with Ivan’s weapons of torture. It’s absolutely awful, lit only by candles and smelling overpoweringly of blood.

Mathias has been in the KM far more than he would like.

Every evening, Mathias and Gilbert head to Crow at about eight o’clock, even during the harsh Siberian winters. They smoke cigarettes and poke the fire, even when the thick snow douses the flames and the freezing wind rips the cigarettes from their numb hands. Sometimes they talk, but mostly they’re silent, both thinking about their homes, and their families.

In all honestly, for the first few months Mathias had still, somewhere deep inside of him, believed that he’d be back home for Christmas. It wasn’t until early December 1945 that it finally dawned on him that this was _real_ , he was a _Satellite State_ , he wasn’t even Kongeriget Danmark, the Kingdom of Denmark, anymore- he’s Den Dansk Folkerepublik, the Danish People’s Republic. He remembers the numbness that consumed him for the following weeks, through Christmas (which they didn’t celebrate) and well into January.

This isn’t going to be some quick fix. This isn’t a problem that’s going to go away soon. He’s part of the Eastern Bloc, and his people are suffering the same food shortages, power outages and other problems that everyone else is.

But his people are getting restless. Mathias can feel them muttering that they have been inactive for far too long. They whisper to one another that they can fight, they can cause an uprising, and if they do, then surely other nations will come to their aid?

Mathias doesn’t tell anyone this, of course, not even Gilbert. But he smiles as he blows smoke into the inky blackness of the Siberian night.

Soon, he promises himself. Soon you’ll be back home, and you’ll get to see Lukas and Emil and Berwald and Tino and Seeri again, and you can all celebrate and be happy. He’s hopeful, because hope is something Mathias has always clung to, no matter the situation.

Soon.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is a nightmare. This has to be a nightmare. This can’t be real.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And you all thought it would end somewhat positively. 
> 
> I wasn't entirely sure if I wanted to post this as another chapter, rather than it's own little drabble, but I eventually decided on this.
> 
> For those who are wondering, Kiku is staying in the basement because of his injuries from the bombs, so he's only just really able to walk around and do stuff. Kiku and Mathias have met before, but only in a formal setting in the 1800s.

(5)

_25th December 1947_

On Christmas Day in 1947, Mathias wakes up to fire and smoke and pain.

He arches silently on his bed, clamping his mouth down on a scream. In his mind’s eye he can see the flames, licking the buildings of his home- Frederiksberg, Kolding, and Randers. People are running and screaming, many trapped in their burning homes or caught in the raging infernos.

This is a nightmare. This has to be a nightmare. This can’t be real.

Mathias claws at his sheets, desperately trying to kick them off, but his body won’t obey him.

‘Mathias?’ Gilbert’s voice is thick and rough with sleep as he looks up from his bed. Mathias wants to assure him that it’s fine, that he’s okay, that this is nothing, because he’s a big brother and _that’s his job_. ‘Mathias, are you okay?’

If he opens his mouth, he’ll scream, and that can’t happen. If not for Gilbert, then for Daniel- he’s just a kid, he doesn’t need to be scared like that.

‘Mein Gott, Mathias, what’s happening?’ Gilbert is beside him now, mercifully tugging off the scratchy blanket. Mathias wants to thank him, or comfort him, but he can’t, because the sight of Gilbert in their dark bedroom is blurring with the burning of his beloved cities- his beloved _people_.

Mathias knows it isn’t a nightmare when Ivan appears at Gilbert’s back. The Prussian is babbling in terrified High German, thankfully not touching Mathias, because he’s burning. He’s burning and hurting and dying, and he knows, without a shadow of a doubt, that it’s Russia’s fault.

Ivan’s hysterical grin and freezing eyes are the last thing Mathias sees before he slides into blackness.

 

* * *

  

When he comes too again, it’s still dark, and for a horrible moment he thinks he’s gone blind.

Then, slowly, the dimly lit walls of the KM come into focus, and his stomach tightens, before he catches sight of someone watching him. For a moment, he can’t even begin to imagine who it is- they’re small and skinny (aren’t they all, these days?) and half-wrapped in bandages, even part of their face. Then it occurs to Mathias who this is.

‘Japan?’ He rasps, in Danish before he reminds himself that he has to speak Russian. ‘What am I doing here? What happened- everything was on fire-’ He tries to get up, but his body feels too heavy to move.

‘Please don’t panic, Daniya,’ says Japan, moving closer to his bed. The one eye that shows- the other is hidden beneath bandages- looks pitch-black. In the flickering light of the candle his face is pale and gaunt, no doubt from the famine they’ve been suffering all year. His expression is as it always is, politely unemotional, but Mathias is sure he can see sympathy in those dark eyes. ‘You’re on a lot of painkillers.’

‘What happened?’ Mathias asks again. Japan looks away slightly, his black hair falling over his eyes. ‘Please.’

‘I don’t know I’m the right one to tell you this,’ Japan said softly. ‘But Ivan doesn’t want anyone else talking to you right now, so I suppose I’ll have to do.’ He paused, considering his small, bony hands. ‘The Russians firebombed your country, Daniya. Ivan didn’t tell me the details. I’m sorry.’

It’s like a punch to the stomach. Randers. Kolding. Frederiksberg. So many people, burnt to ashes. His heart thumps in his chest, and he feels hot tears start to flow.

‘I’m sorry,’ repeats Japan, reaching out a pale hand and tentatively touching his shoulder.

‘Do they know… Do they know the… How many…’ How many died, he wants to say, but he can’t seem to get it out.

‘They don’t know yet,’ answers Japan. ‘And, to be honest, it being the USSR…’

They won’t be truthful about it anyway, Mathias finishes for him, and feels icy cold rage fill him. He’s not usually one for anger- sure, he was wild when he was young, and he feels his emotions strongly, but he’s usually a good-natured guy. Negative emotions just don’t come easy to him. Even with Ivan, his anger dissipates quickly. But right now, he wants to hit Ivan until he can’t continue, until his arms are too tired to throw another punch. He wants Ivan to _hurt_.

Mathias doesn’t leave the dingy basement room for weeks, languishing under Kiku’s assiduous but limited care- Ivan provides no more painkillers after the first dose, and everything else is short supply anyway- but when he does, the moment he looks into Ivan’s smug, scarred face, he feels such hate that he almost can’t contain it.

It’s on the 25th of December 1947, on a day that will come to be known as the Juledag Massakre, that Mathias stops hoping.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a note, but Kiku doesn't use -san because Russia counts that as speaking Japanese, which is forbidden.

**Author's Note:**

> Vilhelm Buhl: the Prime Minister of Denmark in 1945
> 
> Christiansborg Slot: Christiansborg Palace, the Danish Parliament building
> 
> Rigsborg: Colloquial name for Christiansborg Slot
> 
> Schleswig-Holstein: German region directly below Denmark
> 
> King Christian: King Christian X, the king of Denmark from 1912 to 1947. He’s staying because from what I read about his activities during WWII (he was a symbol of Danish sovereignty), and after he’d survived the mostly peaceful Nazi occupation, maybe he thinks he can survive this one.


End file.
